


The Pond

by ObscureFrost



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Ideas, Consensual Sex, Descriptions of a Panic Attack, F/F, F/M, Mentions of the possibility of rape, Multi, Neurodivergent Claudette, OT3, Porn With Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27020197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureFrost/pseuds/ObscureFrost
Summary: Claudette really tries to keep herself in check. It's not her fault a certain someone looks very good wet, and it's absolutely not her fault she's horny about it.-Porn with plot about how Meg, Claudette, and Evan would manage to have a threesome.
Relationships: Claudette Morel/Meg Thomas, Claudette Morel/Meg Thomas/Evan Macmillan | The Trapper, Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Meg Thomas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	The Pond

**Author's Note:**

> The first two paragraphs vividly describe a panic attack, if that would upset you, please skip down to paragraph 3. Otherwise, please enjoy this fic that I'm pretty sure only I asked for :)

Nothing she touches matters. The trees are only real because she thinks they are, and they only stand because she thinks they should. She can’t feel her hands. If she had the energy to lift them, she might try to pinch herself, or try to push one of the trees over, and force this fake world to crumble around her. The world spins, a fraction at a time, and pulling air into her lungs becomes harder for each little shift.

Vaguely, she understands that she sits down, as if she watches herself amongst the trees come to a halt, and slowly fold down on herself all at once. Breathing doesn’t get any easier, like there’s a weight crushing at her chest, keeping her in this fake world, hurting her for fun, and she isn’t sure if the Entity has played some new sick joke on her, or if the hurt is as fake as her life, an unstoppable play put on for an unknown force. 

It hurts and for a moment she can feel her legs, and she tries to stand, to get away from crushing pressure, but they fail her before she gets even halfway up, and she hits the dirt with a hard shock.

She can breathe again. Blinking, she heaves in a few strong breaths, and the world refocuses around her in pieces. There is no weight, no looming Entity, and her limbs are hers to use again. She pulls her legs close, huddling into a tight ball, rubbing the feeling back into her arms, eyes squeezed shut against the empty forest around her. 

Claudette shakes herself. There isn’t time to waste pulling herself together. She’s been in the fog too long, and it’s weakening her resolve the longer she strays away from the fire. She shoves herself to her feet, setting out in long strides, readjusting her bandanna around her mouth as she goes. There is an important mission to be done, and she won’t fail because of a mild episode of panic. 

The Pond jumps occasionally. Usually it’s not far from the fire, close enough it doesn’t take long to find, anyway, but this time it’s proving exceptionally difficult to find, and the choking fog doesn’t help. Normally they would just wait, but the bottles of water they collected before are running out, and as little as they need to drink, drinking is a comfort, like being able to wash their faces, or use the full bottles as offerings before trials.

Panic is crawling up her spine again when she _finally_ stumbles out of the trees and into a clearing. The water is there, the moon reflecting against the dark surface, and Claudette yanks her bandanna back down around her neck to breathe a little easier. The feeling the fog induces will take a long time to fade, but the relief of finding the Pond is enough to quell the worst of the anxiety.

Sinking down to the ground with a huff, she finally gives herself a moment to pull herself together. Her lungs and legs feel weak from the panic attack before, and even rubbing at her thighs doesn’t ease the numbness. Eventually her dizziness fades to a point she can close her eyes longer than a few moments at a time, and she picks herself up.  
Making her way across the field is almost relaxing, the empty bottles tied in a line around her waist clinking together merrily. No one else has found it yet, and she gives herself a small pat on the back for it, even if it was most likely luck. Jake almost always beats her anywhere in the woods, and Meg is never far behind anyone. She kneels on a few flat rocks, and starts untying her bottles, setting them down to be filled, one by one. The monotony doesn’t last long, and only three bottles are full when movement catches her eyes from across the Pond. She looks up, smiling expectantly. It isn’t Jake or Meg who meets her gaze. Instead, a dirty white mask grins back.

Claudette wants to stand, to sprint away as fast as she can, but she’s frozen. It must be the lingering effects of the fog, or old fear instinct not yet beat into submission, but her mind comes to a screeching halt, no thoughts in her head, but to watch the looming shape moving from the other side of the water.

He’s seen her, absolutely, and his gaze hasn’t left her. More importantly, he hasn’t moved like he’s interested in chasing her either. They stare at each other warily, like cats in unfamiliar territory, but eventually The Trapper breaks his gaze and pulls something from off his back, and makes his way to the water as well. 

Claudette doesn’t let her eyes leave him, but as he busies himself with what looks like a large canteen, her hands move on auto-pilot back to the bottles. If she leaves them they’ll be lost to the Entity forever, but if she dies with them on her, she’ll at least be able to find them again. The cold of the water on her hands is surprising enough to draw her gaze away from the Trapper. Muscle movement reigns supreme it seems, and the familiar feeling of water slowly siphoning into the bottle is comforting. 

A quick look proves the Trapper hasn’t moved, and she quickly sets to filling up the rest of her bottles. It doesn’t take long, and by the time the last bottle has been filled, The Trapper has long finished with his canteen, and is...stripping. Claudette almost drops the bottle, but manages to save it at the last moment. His boots are neatly aligned, socks draped over them, and as she watches he unbutton his overalls and stands wearing only his mask and his boxers. 

As she watches he folds the overalls neatly, setting them over his shoes, and then wades into the water, and begins to wash. If her mind was off before, it’s completely dead now. Even from a distance, she can see the muscles of his arms, and as he scrubs himself down, the water runs over his forearms in small streams, turning the water a rusty red. The warmth of arousal grasps Claudette firmly, and she forces herself to turn her back, cheeks burning. 

Tying the bottles back into their macrame carrier is _much_ harder with the heavy gaze of a murderer on her back, and with her hands shaking so badly, but Claudette manages on the second try, and she carefully sets the strings around her waist again. The walk across the field feels like it takes much longer this time, but the Trapper doesn’t move when she looks back to check, watching her silently. When she reaches the edge of the woods the muscles in her arm move without permission, and she waves before she flings herself back around and into the woods. 

The trip to the campfire is faster, and Claudette stumbles into the light of the fire with still burning cheeks. The others perk up at her arrival, and, to her chagrin, immediately notice how flustered she is. Jake helps her unload the water, and Meg immediately barrages her with questions. 

”Whoa whoa whoa, what _happened_ Claudette?” Meg’s hands hover over her shoulders, and the potential of them touching her isn’t kind to Claudette’s arousal. Meg’s laser focus on whoever she’s talking to has always gotten under Claudette’s skin, and she can’t find her words when Meg waits for her expectantly, so she can do nothing but shake her head. 

Jake shoves half the bottles into Meg’s arms, and when Meg is forced to break her stare to accommodate them, Claudette gives Jake an appreciative smile, which he returns slightly. The water gives Claudette a good reason to deflect, and as she unknots the macrame into neat rolls of string, her heart rate finally falls back under control.

They work silently, for a while, but Meg is never one to be deterred for long. As they settle around the fire to sip on warmed cups of water, Meg sits herself close enough to Claudette that their legs press together. 

“Sooo…” Meg isn’t subtle, and there’s a note of concern in her voice, “What did happen out there?”

The warmth of the water is as comforting as the heat of Meg is exciting, and Claudette takes a deep breath of steam before she can bring herself to talk. 

“I uh, wasn’t the only person at the pond.”

“Excuse me?” Jake and Dwight tune into the conversation at Meg’s tone, and Claudette wants to shrink away from the scrutiny, but continues.

“When I got there I was alone but, um, the Trapper showed up too. It was fine!” Everyone looks alarmed, so she presses on, “He didn’t do anything. He just, um, he, he filled up a canteen and...took a bath.”

Meg leans forward, sparkle in her eyes, “You saw him _naked?_ ”

Dwight hums, “Was his dick huge?” Attention spins towards Dwight. He shrugs, arms wrapping up tightly. “What? I wanna know!”

“I uh, he left his boxers on.” 

“Why do _you_ want to know Dwight?” Meg switches targets, her arm thoughtlessly curling around Claudette in excitement, and Claudette is so caught up by the feeling she almost misses Dwight’s answer.

“What, a guy can’t be curious?” 

“Oh sure, a guy can be curious, but since when is that your _first question_ when Claudette just met a murderer in the woods and didn’t get murdered?” Meg cries indignantly.

Dwight doesn’t exactly uncurl, but his shoulders lower a bit. Jake gives him an encouraging ‘go on’ gesture. “So it’s not like.... I just happened to be the last one in the trial, and I noticed he had a stiffy. You have to be packing if you can see that through overalls. Maybe I have hopes and dreams. Maybe I offered to blow him if he’d give me the hatch.” Meg gapes and Jake give Dwight a solid smack on the back, which leaves Dwight laughing. “He didn’t take me up on it.”

“I didn’t know you were into dudes!” Meg exclaims, and Dwight gives her a funny look. 

“Really? You’ve walked in on Jake and I having,” he blushes, suddenly bashful again, “doing...things. I think that’s a pretty big clue.” Meg waves him off.

“Anyone would sleep with Jake. He has magnetism.” She sends a wink his way, and Jake waves it away. “Wouldn’t you sleep with Jake?” Meg shakes Claudette a little, leaning in close and it takes her a second to realize the question is aimed at her. 

“Me? Uh, I haven’t thought about it? Maybe? Probably not?” 

“You don’t sound sure.” Meg wiggles her eyebrows, and it’s almost funny enough to distract Claudette from the fact she can see straight down her shirt when she bends over her like this. 

“No offense Jake!” He doesn’t look offended, if anything, he’s hiding a smirk behind his gloved hand, “He’s just not my, er, type?” Claudette makes a valiant effort to keep her eyes up, anyway but the cleavage that is shoved up towards her in the tight sports bra, but she fails, and Meg catches onto her gaze.

“Oh? Oh? Oh!” Meg looks delighted, and flings her legs over Claudette’s settling into her lap and grinning teasingly. “And what _is_ your type?”

Claudette covers her eyes with her hands, and she can feel the world spinning a bit, ears ringing. As much as she loves it (Meg is always warm, so muscled, she wants to feel all of her, fond memories of her in the same position, naked, flashing before her eyes) the eyes of Jake and Dwight feel like weapons, and she can’t handle it.

“Air please.” Her voice comes out in a whisper, but Meg is off her almost as soon as she says it. 

“Sorry.” Meg looks down, and is about to pull away entirely, before she can Claudette grabs her hand.

“Don’t be. Just, wrong setting.” Claudette whispers again. And Meg nods, squeezing her hand. Conversation continues, changing tracks, and Claudette stays quiet for the most part, hyper-focused on Meg’s hand in hers, her thoughts falling back to the Trapper, his non-violence, and the way the water had rolled off his arms.

Eventually, the conversation rolls to a stop and Claudette drifts to sleep, Meg’s hand still in hers. 

~~

Claudette doesn’t have the chance to think about that night until much later. She doesn’t think of it at all until she’s in a trial, and a bear trap glints menacingly at her from where it’s almost completely hidden in a patch of grass. She isn’t really sure what to call this place. Vigo described it as the MacMillan estate in his journals, but the name doesn’t mean much to her. The trees provide excellent shade for hiding in darkness though, and the crate and barrels piled in haphazard rows down the length of the fenced arena are good for chases and stealth alike. It’s a familiar setting, but it doesn’t mean she’s at an advantage. The Trapper knows the area well too, and he gets creative with his traps, so if she doesn’t watch her feet, she’ll be in for trouble.

She normally has an easy time concentrating in trials. Fear and pain are good motivators for focus, but even as she sticks her hands deep in the guts of her first generator, she can’t help but remember the Trapper in a different place, peaceful, and soaked in moonlight. When her heart starts to pound, Claudette sneaks around a tree, waiting. He appears like he’s been summoned by her thoughts, and she watches as he kicks the generator and starts looking for her.

His arms are as attractive as she remembers them, even caked in old blood and dirt. He walks with confidence and purpose, and the spark of arousal she felt when she saw him at the pond burns a bit hotter. The line of his neck is all muscle, inelegant and brutish, and she knows from memory that those muscles feel like iron to move against. 

He doesn’t waste much time searching for her, and moves on as soon as the sound of disarmed traps echoes from the hut about ten meters away. She watches him as he leaves, and wishes that his overalls were a bit more form fitting. Her generator starts up easily enough after that, but as she picks her way carefully out of the alcove, unease starts to filter into her gut. Trials have predictable enough paces, overall. The fact that her gen is the only one to have started, despite the large break she had to take from it, is not a good sign.

Ace screaming from somewhere she can’t see is also not good. He’s picked up quickly from the trap he stepped in, a hook lighting up in her vision only a few moments later. Auras dip around the hook, the other two survivors trying to bait the Trapper away, and her heart sinks. Some killers might take the bait, preferring the chase over securing the kill, but as she watches, The Trapper’s aura doesn’t move except to place a few traps, and to swing at Yui and Felix when they come too close. 

The Trapper doesn’t normally stay at hooks. He used to, a long time ago when there were far fewer survivors, just four, and they would dive in recklessly to save each other, even if it meant dying for it. Nowadays, the more seasoned survivors have learned to leave each other on the hooks, and force the killer to leave if he wants to protect the progress on the generators.

It seems it’s a lesson that Yui and Felix are going to learn today, the hard way. The Trapper chases Felix far enough that Yui saves Ace, but it doesn’t last long, all he has to do is chase them around the corner, and Ace goes down from a single swipe, and Yui runs right into the trap around the corner. It’s chaos, and Claudette stands still, genuinely unsure of what to do. She can see Felix, injured and crouched behind some rocks and she knows she could heal him. 

But she is very, very good at the trials by now, and she stays still, watching in morbid fascination. He hasn’t moved far enough away from the hooks. He probably wants to try to save Yui as the Trapper hooks Ace, to run in and out again, too quickly to be caught. It’s wishful thinking, and she curses his inexperience as he stands, getting ready to make a run for it.

He gets the unhook faster than Claudette expects, and to her relief Ace and Yui make a narrow escape, and Felix goes on the hook alone, screaming. That gives her the opening to help, watching their auras stagger in a limping run away from the hook, The Trapper leaves the hook quickly, in hot pursuit of his prey. Running in a straight line anywhere is a death wish, but she does her best, making as few detours as she can on her way to Felix.

Pulling him down is a breeze, and patching him up is simple enough. Bandages wind around his torso, and he grimaces when they tighten, but smiles thankfully at her when it’s done. She waves, gesturing for him to follow, and they head towards the tall tower at the end of the arena, as far away from the hut as she can get him. Together they start on the second generator of the trial, but their progress doesn’t last long. As Yui goes down across the map, Felix jumps away from the generator, ignoring Claudette’s silent gesture that he should stay. He grins at her, spinning his flashlight cheekily, before dropping out of the window.

Again she is alone, churning through a generator without help. Anger isn’t normally an emotion on her radar, but tonight it bubbles up quickly. It’s frustrating, sitting on the generators alone as her team dies uselessly. Ace knows better than to make himself a target, but she knows for a fact that the sound of traps snapping across the map is his doing. Yui and Felix have never experienced the Trapper in his element like this, but they _should_ know just from the moniker that them acting like fools, throwing themselves into harm's way only to step in traps, is how he wins. 

Ace and Felix scurry around the hook like pigeons, darting in and away with little coordination, flashlights clicking mockingly. Her generator roars to life, but no satisfaction comes from the sound as Felix trades his life for Yui’s and he goes back up onto the hook. Claudette takes the stairs on the way down, watching her feet for traps, lifting her skirt daintily to the side so she can see where she sets her feet.

She’s in no hurry to save her teammates if they won’t even use their lives sensibly. It’s not a feeling she’s had to confront in herself before, but even as she winces in pain for Yui getting struck by a machete, cold apathy about her fate rushes in to follow. Of course, she doesn’t want Yui or Ace, or Felix, or anybody to get hurt, and she’ll absolutely help them heal up if they only, for a second, left the hook. 

Something about Darwinism at work pops into her mind, and Claudette shakes it away. They aren’t stupid. They’ve all survived trials before, done the right thing. She’s been in trials herself where she’s too overwhelmed to think straight, blinders on about helping her team, no matter the consequences. It’s been a long time though. Long enough she’d forgotten how devastating the effects are.

Yui goes down at the same moment Ace steps in a trap, and Claudette hustles forward, hoping to get to Felix before he’s overcome by the Entity. She doesn’t make it, or rather she can’t. The Trapper stands directly in front of Felix, his boot on Yui’s wrist, trapping her and her flashlight on the ground. When Felix has been dragged up into the sky, he lifts Yui in a quick shrug, dropping her onto a hook as well. He doesn’t watch her as closely though, content to turn his back as the Entity tears her open, her flashlight dropping to the ground with a soft thud.

The Trapper takes a while to find Ace, long enough that Claudette considers running in to help save him, but Ace has crawled his way into the basement to hide, so instead, she hops up onto one of the crates outside the coal tower to sit and wait. There isn’t much point in hiding and waiting for the hatch. It won’t have appeared yet, and she doesn’t have the time or energy to do another generator. Swinging her legs idly, she watches as Ace’s aura crawls into the very back of the basement, curling up in pain.

It’s hard to watch. If he were anywhere else, she’d run immediately, pick him up and put him back together to fight another day. Why on earth would he choose the basement? Maybe, she thinks, it’s some kind of mercy. Maybe he’s trying to tell her not to come, to save herself. Or he’s just scared and exhausted, and unthinkingly took the path of least resistance down the stairs.

He does get found eventually, and he dies as soon as he’s on the hook. Claudette hopes it’s painless. She should get up now, try to find the hatch and slip away, but her anger is gone, replaced by a bitter resentment that saps at her motivation. She hasn’t just sat down in a long time, and she breathes in the crisp air, wishing it had a smell other than that of burnt coal. When she closes her eyes she can hear wind whispering through the trees and windows of the torn up old tower. 

It reminds her of the park in the middle of her old campus. It had always been quiet at night, even if it hadn’t smelled so awful. Her heels hit the crate below in a dull staccato, and it brings back memories of swinging her legs under the too tall campus benches, trying to pin down papers so they wouldn’t scatter in the wind.

It’s her heartbeat that alerts her that at last, The Trapper has found her as well.

The trees form a dark outline of his figure, and he watches her for a long moment before he approaches. He’s close enough she can see the sweat on his shoulders, and the blood that has already congealed on his hands and blade. He sighs, deeply, and Claudette’s empathy tells her this trial was hard on both them, even if for very different reasons. 

He approaches, and hesitates, before leaning on the crate next to her, dropping his machete with a dull clatter on the wood. He’s still taller than her, even with her elevated seat on the crate, and she watches him from the corner of her eye. It’s not the reaction she expected, certainly, but part of her understands. They’ve both been in these trials long enough that this one felt like a joke. She knows he enjoys the trials and there wouldn’t be much to enjoy in this one. No chases, no opportunities to outsmart each other. She knows Meg likes trials with him, because it’s like a game of cat and mouse, his traps ruthless, but less painful of a punishment than some of the ones other killers have for them.

As much as she hates to admit, she’s had fun in trials too. It feels disgusting, and she’s not sure she could ever say it out loud, but she feels useful in trials. More useful than she ever felt before the fog. There are still trials where she feels awful, and would like nothing more than to go home. It’s been a long time though, since she hasn’t known how to handle herself, and felt hopeless. The pain has never dulled, but she’s gotten better at handling it, and her perception of it has changed drastically from when she first started surviving.

The Trapper shifts next to her, looking up. The long tendrils of the Entity snake across the sky, hungry and impatient. He turns to her, and Claudette smiles at him weakly. She hasn’t felt the edge of his blade yet this trial, and she’d rather keep it that way. Raising both her arms she beckons him over to pick her up. The trial has already gone on far too long. He picks her up, more gently than she thinks she has ever been picked up by a killer before, slinging her over his shoulder in a slow, practiced motion. His hand supports her waist gently, not in the tight fisted grip it would be normally, and she doesn’t resist.

He hooks her, like she knew he would, in a fast economical motion, and she can’t help screaming. It’s a pain she’s used to though, and she puts it out of her mind as best she can. The Trapper doesn’t leave her, and for the first time she notices his eyes behind the mask. They’re green. She reaches out, and she’s too far gone to do much, but he meets her halfway, gripping her hand in his. 

The Entity spears her through, but even as she dies, he doesn’t let go. 

~~

There are a few more trials before the Entity lets them rest again, and they’re intense enough that Claudette forgets her irritation with the other survivors from the Trapper trial. What she doesn’t forget, is his small kindness. The feeling of his hand in her rolls through her mind like hard candy. She wants to feel it again. Plans begin to grow in her mind. Meg stretches out beside her, indolent, and Claudette watches her absently.

Meg is crazy enough to maybe go along with it. The trick is telling her about it when Dwight and Jake aren’t around to butt in. It’s not often they split up outside of trials, only to go find supplies, or to spend some time on more intimate pleasures. Meg rolls over, plastering herself along Claudette’s leg, and she lets herself brush idly through Meg’s hair as she thinks. It’s not that she couldn’t try alone. She could. In fact, it might even be easier. But something tells her that Meg’s charisma will be very useful.

Claudette knows her shyness makes it hard for her to get along with people. No matter how many therapists she’s seen, or seminars she’s attended, she just can’t shake the anxiety that overwhelms her when she’s meeting someone new. She knows what she should say, how she should say it even, but somehow her tongue and brain get all twisted up anyway, crushing her voice before she can use it.

So if she needs to say something, but won’t be able to say it, she needs an intermediary who _can_ and _will_. Meg would be a good translator. She’s impatient, sure, but she has a good memory, and knows Claudette really well. She knows her better than anyone else has known Claudette. Jake and Dwight could, if Meg bails for any reason, but part of her balks at the idea of them trying to make a joke out of it, or calling her crazy.

More importantly, if Meg is on board, Claudette might get two birds with one stone.

“Meg?” Meg rolls over just enough to unpeel her face from Claudette’s leg to show she’s listening, “would you like to go on a walk with me?” Meg perks up, sitting up entirely.

“A walk? I could use some time away from the fire.”

“Are we invited?” Dwight asks, his head in Jake’s lap as he messes with some braided grass. 

“No.” Jake answers for her, “we aren’t. And even if we _were_ I’m politely declining the offer.” Dwight looks a little ruffled by that, but when Jake gives him a slow and deliberate wink, he catches on. 

“Right, uh, have fun with that you guys.” Dwight waves them off, and Meg and Claudette help each other up, Meg chuckling as she dusts herself off. She offers Claudette her hand, and they leave the light of the fire together. 

They walk in silence for a few minutes before Meg finally asks, “I’m not complaining if you actually wanted to go on a walk but, what’s this about Claudette?”

Claudette didn’t actually consider the pressure of saying that she was hoping she could have a threesome with her and The Trapper out loud, and it takes a few moments of calming breaths before she can bring herself to explain. “So you remember how I found the Trapper at the pond a while ago? Well I was hoping we could find him again.”

Meg raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t immediately protest like Claudette feared she might, so she continues. “And I know you like getting a little risky when we….uh, have….sex. And so I was thinking maybe it could be fun if you and I…um…” Words freeze up in her mouth and Claudette swallows several times, to no avail, and she shakes her head when Meg gives her a small go-ahead gesture.

“Can I guess?” Meg asks, and she gives a relieved nod. “You were thinking...maybe it’d be fun to have sex out by the pond, very romantic by the way, and if The Trapper happened to see us it could be voyueristic and sexy?” Claudette shakes her head, but holds out two fingers, almost touching. “Close? Let’s see,” Meg helps Claudette over a fallen tree as she thinks, her hands lingering purposefully on her butt.

“Sex by the pond,” Claudette nods, “Okay, still very romantic. The Trapper is...there?” Claudette nods again, and wishes she wasn’t so terrible at communication. “Do you want him involved?” Claudette nods again and Meg raises an eyebrow, more curious than accusatory. She goes silent, but doesn’t let go of Claudette’s hand as she thinks. Claudette knows her hand is shaking, and a little bit of anxiety fueled numbness has crawled into the edges of her face and she tries to rub it away with her free hand.

They still haven’t found the pond, but a few minutes later, Meg speaks up again.

“I’m on board with it. Sex with The Trapper? Could be incredibly sexy. Are you sure he’s not going to just kill us? You know everyone who has sex in horror movies just straight up dies right?” Claudette’s heart soars, and she can’t help but grin happily, swinging Meg’s hand with hers. 

“He won’t.” She isn’t sure why her voice is unstuck again, but she takes advantage, “Or, I don't think he will. Even if he does. What do we have to lose?”

Meg shakes her head, face grim. “He could rape up both you know. If he can kill us, nothing is really stopping him from going there, especially if we’re out offering it up.” Claudette’s heart drops like a stone, cold reality hitting her in the stomach like a rock, and she tries to respond, but just as she tries, they cross a hidden threshold, and the pond comes into view, open field and glittering water opening up before them.

“I’m not saying he will.” Meg assures her, pulling them to a stop, “he’s never actually struck me as the type. And I really think it could be fun, but I don’t want you walking into this blind.” Meg cocks her head, gaze wandering, “I trust your judgement, when it comes to people. Your empathy is kinda...supernatural. I just need you to know some people are very good at hiding bad intentions, even if they’ve been nice a few times.”

“I’m not a child!” 

“Oh God, I’m sorry that’s not how I meant that. You would already know that, yeah.” Meg returns her gaze to Claudette’s face, serious, “I wouldn’t even consider this if I didn’t trust you. Or, well, if I didn’t think Trapper was unfairly hot.” Meg laughs at herself, and rubs the back of her neck, “I’m just nervous you know?”

Claudette marvels at the sight of an off-balance Meg Thomas, and a small part of her likes that she’s so affected. “He might not even show up,” Claudette reminds her, stepping in closer, “right now, it’s just us and the water.” She drops Meg’s hand, instead sliding them around her waist, “Let’s go take a dip?”

Meg’s hands immediately go to her shirt, and Claudette pulls away, running towards the pond, wrestling with her buttons as she goes. “Race you there!” Even with a headstart Claudette has no chance, and Meg outstrips her in a moment. Meg is almost out of her pants by the time Claudette catches up with her at the water, and they grin at each other as they strip, the prospect of getting clean almost as exciting as getting their hands on each other.

Almost. 

Meg helps her slide off her underwear, and lets her hands wander, down the curve of her back, across her butt and down her thighs, grinning up at her the whole time. The want in her eyes is intoxicating, and Meg pulls her forward into the water. The cold is a shock, and Claudette squeals at the contact, and tries to pull back, but Meg’s grip is too strong, and she has to jump all the way in before the slippery ground causes her to fall. 

The water is a cold, but not enough of one for either of them to be very distracted from the other. Washing up turns more into an excuse to touch, Meg’s hands gliding over Claudette’s breasts, dripping water over her nipples, and watching them harden at the cold. She gasps when Claudette returns the favor, ducking her head to mouth and Meg’s breasts, sucking gently, biting gently when Meg pulls at her hair. 

Meg moans, quick to rile, and forces Claudette back, her hands diving under the water to reach between Claudette’s legs. Her fingers run over her folds, not yet touching her entrance, and pushes up with her palm, a firm pressure against her mound. Claudette gasps, and leans into the pressure, and tries not to hump Meg’s hand.

She fails, it’s been too long since they last did this, and Claudette’s body is screaming for the attention. Meg’s free hand wraps around Claudette’s back, supporting her weight as she rocks into her. “More,” Claudette gasps, and Meg obliges her, and pushes two of her fingers inside, still rocking her hand. 

The sensation is divine, and Meg’s fingers feel like magic, even and steady, but the angle is terrible, and it doesn’t take long for Claudette to feel unsatisfied heat burn through her gut, wanting _more_. She pushes Meg’s hand away, and nudges her towards shore and Meg follows eagerly, and doesn’t resist when Claudette pushes her onto the soft ground and pulls her legs apart. 

Meg’s cunt is a sakura pink, shimmering with wetness, and Claudette takes a moment to run her fingers lovingly over the folds that hide her entrance, before pushing them apart and bending down to taste. Meg’s hands grip her hair again when her tongue finds her entrance, licking in only for a moment before flattening her tongue to press against her clit. Meg’s thigh twitches by her ear, and Claudette continues, kissing her clit, sucking on it gently, before swirling it around her tongue, over and over.

The pattern drives Meg crazy, and Claudette feels distantly smug at the sounds Meg makes when she finally dips a finger inside of her, quickly followed by a second, crooking upward to rub against her sweet spot. Claudette doesn’t slow her tongue as she adds a third finger, and it pays off.

It’s been long enough for Meg that she comes apart quickly, her thighs shaking at Claudette’s ministrations, cumming with a soft sob, pulling herself away from Claudette’s mouth and breathing hard. Meg pulls her up and kisses her, lips opening and inviting herself inside, tasting herself in Claudette’s mouth. Her hands move down, and find Claudette’s entrance again.

Claudette can only stand the teasing for a moment, Meg’s fingers barely dipping inside of her at this angle, and she whimpers, pressing her forehead into Meg’s shoulder. “ _Please_ ” she groans, and Megs obliges, pushing her sideways and over, onto her back, before pulling her thighs over hers, and freezing, gaze on something else in the woods. “Meg?” Claudette strains her head back, looking behind her best she can, pinned to the ground.

The Trapper is standing at the edge of the trees. He’s watching them. For how long, Claudette doesn’t know, but the part of her brain that might care is overwhelmed by the part that needs, more than anything, to _have someone inside of her_. She moves her arms past Meg’s, and with a gesture she hopes is familiar, reaches out towards him. 

“ _Please_ ” she asks again, trying to meet his eye. Meg laughs above her, loosening again, her shoulders sliding back in practiced cockiness. 

“Just gonna watch? Or should I help myself?” Her question is aimed at the Trapper, but punctuated by shifting down, her hand finding Claudette’s entrance again, and Claudette groans, surprised by the contact. She has to squeeze her eyes shut, her arms falling back to her sides, gripping the grass as Meg plunges inside of her.

It’s just what she’s been wanting, and she can hear the noises of her own wetness against Meg’s hand, and for a moment she forgets about the Trapper, until Meg’s pause makes her open her eyes again, about to protest, and he’s standing over her in the grass. Normally his height is terrifying, but her body has other ideas at the moment, and the size of him makes her even wetter, clenching on Meg’s fingers in anticipation. 

Meg laughs knowingly, and pulls her fingers out and away, and Claudette whimpers at the loss, her own hand drifting down, only the shiver of self-consciousness stopping her from replacing Meg’s fingers with her own. “Go on,” Meg’s voice is somehow distant and loud at the same time, “show us what you want.” Claudette looks at her incredulously, her lust not dimmed in the slightest, her hand frozen on her belly, trapped by the gaze of the both bearing down on her. 

“Do it.” The Trapper’s voice is baritone and jagged, and it’s everything she hoped it would be. “Touch yourself.”

She can’t resist an order like that, not with that voice, or the way he stands over her, watching her so closely. She’s wetter than she thinks she’s ever been in her life, and she presses needily against her own clit, pushing her hips up into the pressure. She can’t push her fingers inside of herself very well, not flat on her back, but for him she tries, dipping in and out best she can. It’s not enough. Her own touch has never been enough, not exciting or stimulating the way the touch of another’s is, and she can’t help but whine, desperate for more stimulation.

“Please,” she’s begging now but she can’t bring herself to care, and she can feel tears forming in the corners of her eyes from frustration, “Please, please, please…”

“Please what?” Meg taunts her, but her hands are already helping, reaching up to press together her breasts and pinch at her nipples, “What do you want? You have to say.”

It’s impossible to say, to ask the man who has killed her to do as she says, but logic and rationality left the clearing when her clothes left her body, and by a miracle, she manages to look into the Trapper’s green eyes and ask.

“Please fuck me.”

She’s seen him most fast before, but never so fast as he moves then, kicking off his boots and throwing off his overalls with incredible efficiency, but still taking the time to fold them before dropping them to the ground. He pulls off his boxers, and Meg inhales loudly beside her when he finally stands naked before them. 

His cock is definitely massive, and Claudette thinks that her mouth might be watering. He kneels between her legs, and runs his hand up her thigh, exploring her, head dropped in what might be considered reverence if she was feeling egotistical. His hands are huge when they find her waist, and she lets the crook of her knee rest in his elbow, admiring the curve of his bicep when he moves to accommodate her.

“Are you sure?” It’s a kind question, one she didn’t expect, but she doesn’t hesitate to reply.

“Yes.”

He shifts up on his knees, and pulls her closer, one hand leaving her waist to line up his cock with her opening, the other he uses to balance himself on the ground next to her. He pauses there for a moment, the tip of him hovering just inside of her and she thinks he might have chuckled, but she can’t quite tell over the sound of her frustrated groan. 

He pushes inside slowly, and he feels amazing, like an iron rod with velvet skin, and she has to reach out, trying to find something to ground herself in, and Meg catches one of her hands, the other bracing against the Trapper’s arm. “Fuck,” she can’t help herself, she’s been aching for this longer than she wants to admit, “Oh God, please, move.”

He lets her have it then, gearing up into a rapid, punishing pace. She can’t help crying out at every powerful thrust, and if he weren’t pinning her down she thinks hazily that she might go flying. He doesn’t slow, even as she feels herself spinning up towards the climax she’s been aching for, Meg reaches in, finds her clit, and her climax hits her all at once, she can do nothing but ride the wave.

The Trapper doesn’t slow, chasing his own release and Claudette feels loose and wobbly in his grip, overstimulated and buzzy, but grounded firmly in the cage of his arms. Meg croons something in her ear, but she can’t understand the words, only the hungry tone, and The Trapper thrusts into her with a final solid push, and groans as he cums into her, warm and wet.

He releases her slowly, like she’ll disappear if he lets go, and as he pulls out she can feel his spend leak out of her. He caresses her gently, his fingers catching the spend and pushing it back inside slowly, and Meg whispers out a soft, lustful curse as Claudette groans and revels in the feeling. 

“Come ‘ere.” Caludette manages finally, when he seems satisfied, and pulls him down to lay with her on the grass, out of breath and satiated at last. Meg resettles herself so Claudette can rest her head in her lap, and promptly begins running her hands over the Trapper’s shoulders curiously, tracing his scars and impalements. He allows it good naturedly, his breathing not yet evened out, he rests one hand on Claudette's waist, using the other to prop himself up. As their breathing slows, Meg grows more twitchy, shifting in place.

“What is it Meg?” Claudette asks sleepily.

“What’s your name?” Meg blurts it out quickly, “do you even have one?” The Trapper considers her, his posture still relaxed.

“Evan.” Meg brightens, and leans closer. 

“Evan? I would never have guessed, did you know, OW!” Claudette pinches Meg’s nipples when her leaning threatens to smother her.

“Be nice.” Claudette chides as Meg rubs her nipple to sooth it, glaring at her. 

“I was going to be nice!” Meg protests. 

“No you weren’t. Ask something else.” Meg sticks her tongue out at her, and it only takes her a moment to think of a different question.

“Do you have another round in you?” Claudette wishes she could see Evan’s face, because even she wasn’t expecting that. She laughs, and Meg looks at her reproachfully. “Oh come on, you had a blast, you can’t blame me for wanting some.” She shakes her head dramatically, her braids smacking the sides of her head, “I can’t believe you would reproach a girl for wanting to take a ride on _that_.” She points in the general direction of Evan’s dick and Claudette laughs harder, rolling off her lap and into the grass, and even Evan’s shoulder’s shake though no sound escapes him.

“Some friend you are! Laughing! While I sit, unsatisfied, longing for- oh hello!” Evan pulls Meg over towards him, settling her on his lap, and she takes a moment to readjust, calculating, and Caludette can see him getting hard again from her spot on the grass. His hands almost entirely surround her waist, and she gulps audibly, though her grin doesn’t waver. 

“Take a ride then.” Meg shivers at his voice, which has dropped into a low threatening octave, and reaches down below her, and grabs for his dick, cautiously teasing it at her entrance. Claudette sits up, settling herself behind Meg, resting her hands on top of Evan’s, she adds a little pressure, urging him to push her farther down.

“She can take it,” Claudette whispers, and Evan meets her eyes, his pupils blown wide, “make her take it.” They push down together and Meg gasps, sinking further onto him, letting go and grasping for Evan’s shoulders. Claudette only gives her a moment, and puts pressure on Evan’s hands again, and he pushes until Meg is fully seated on his cock, and they’re both panting. “Meg,” Claudette whispers it into her neck, pressing a kiss into her throat, “you should move.”

Meg obliges, and starts to ride him, sliding herself on his cock languidly, and much slower than Claudette was hoping for. Evan groans, and she uses that as an opening, leaning over Meg’s shoulder to kiss the side of Evan’s mask, careful to avoid the sharp row of teeth. His eyes turn to her, and she trials her kisses downward, over his jaw, behind his ear where she knows he can feel her.

“Are you really,” she asks quietly, “going to let her set the pace?” She sets the question with another kiss and leans back, putting her hands back on his, and shoves down. Meg cries out, but Evan gets the picture, lifting her up and driving into her, Meg holding on for dear life as she bounces in his lap. Claudette watches with deep seated satisfaction as Meg gets the ride she was asking for, gasping and moaning, and finally, crying out Evan’s name as she climaxes as well. Evan lasts longer this time, and as he pumps into Meg, Claudette decides to be a bit merciless, reaching between the two to rub at Meg’s clit.

“Clau...dette!” Meg gasps in between breaths, and her face screws up, and she would think it was agony if it wasn’t a sight she was well acquainted with. 

“C’mon Meg, give us another.” Claudette doesn’t stop the motion of her hand, and Meg _screams_ her release this time, thighs shaking rapidly, sweat pouring down her back. Evan grunts soon after, holding her down to him and finishing inside of her as well. 

Evan takes a long time to release Meg, but he’s careful as he does, pulling her upright and to the side to accommodate what are probably very sore thighs. 

He reaches out to Claudette, and for a moment, she can’t figure out what he wants. His arm is already dropping when she figures it out, so she throws herself over to him, and kisses him again. She’s positive he can’t feel it through the mask, so she’s sure to pepper in a few on his jaw and throat as well. He makes a soft sound that she just knows is a good sign, when Meg realizes she’s missing out. 

“Hey! You can’t just leave me out of this!” Meg throws herself forward as well, and immediately goes to make a hickey on his neck. He doesn’t throw her off, even though Claudette knows from experience she likes to use teeth when she’s leaving hickeys. Meg pulls off with a gross slurping sound that isn’t at all flattering, and is about to dive in to leave another, but Claudette cuts her off, diving in to claim her lips as her own. 

Evan likes that enough that he doesn’t kick them off his lap, and when they part, he’s eyeing them with what Claudette is sure is fondness. “We should um,” Claudette tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear, “clean up?” The lust has faded enough that she is starkly aware that her back is probably grass stained, and she can feel cum dripping down her legs. 

Meg stands with an overblown sigh, and Evan helps her up from the ground with a gentlemanly hand and the three of them wander into the pond to wash. Evan helps them both, picking up water in his hands and wiping away the stains on their backs and knees. His hands stay gentle, though Claudette is still left shaking when he presses his fingers against her to wash the last of his seed away. 

Meg wiggles her eyebrows at Claudette over Evan’s shoulders when he does the same for her, and Claudette wiggles back, feeling rather proud of herself. This is, by far, the best time she has spent in the fog. Eventually, the chill forces them all to leave the water and pull on clothing, and the silence becomes rather sad as they all dress.

“So,” Meg addresses the woods rather than her or Evan, “this was fantastic. I’m both glad I’m not dead, and very glad you have a fantastic penis. Let’s do this again okay?” Evan nods, but doesn’t reply. Claudette grabs Meg’s hand before she can rush off.

“You’re a good guy Evan. Thanks for...everything. See you around?” He nods, and Meg tugs her away into the woods, and into the fog.


End file.
